


Acts of Service

by elizabeth_beauchamp



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, all of the fluff, bathtime for (one of the) Frasers (but which one?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 06:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20149168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabeth_beauchamp/pseuds/elizabeth_beauchamp
Summary: Bathtime for (one of) the Frasers brings forth a lot of sweetness and fluff.A one-shot set in the "Third Time's The Charm" world for the One Quote One Shot challenge. My assigned quote was the following:“He didn’t move, as I reached out once more and drew my hand slowly down his cheek and neck, over the gleaming slope of his shoulder and down. He didn’t move, but he closed his eyes.”





	Acts of Service

**April 1764**

After bidding my last patient of the day farewell — an older gentleman thanking me profusely for my prescribed bundle of ginger and peppermint for his diet-induced stomach pains — I pushed the imposing door shut, flipped the lock, and slumped my full weight against it. 

_ I could fall asleep right here. _

Considering the few pros and numerous cons of that decision, I let my eyes shut completely for the first time since I woke fourteen hours (and twelve patients) ago. 

With Dr. Morgan visiting his new grandchild in a neighboring city, I was on my fifth of a ten-day stretch of serving as the only physician in one of Edinburgh’s liveliest apothecaries. Between accommodating customers who stopped by for an herb or medicine to try, taking on Dr. Morgan’s regular patients  _ in addition _ to my own, and combating the newly-formed insurgence of the common spring cold among the population on High Street, my body had been tested in ways I hadn’t experienced since Brianna was a newborn. Every muscle ached, but a rush of excitement boosted my spirits as I remembered what awaited me tonight: taking my first  _ piping-hot _ full-body bath since returning to the eighteenth century three months ago. 

Lifting my upper body off the door, I located and dragged the metal bathtub in front of the main fireplace, where two cast-iron cauldrons of water were already boiling. My spacious (and meticulously cleaned) office and examination area included two well-ventilated fireplaces, enabling me to heat as many as four pots at a time. I obtained the water from a common well, located in the alley directly behind our apothecary.  _ Fill water from well into four cauldrons, boil three over fire, use towels to empty the three burning-hot cauldrons into the tub, pour in room temperature water from the remaining cauldron, repeat once _ . A two-hour process (and, arguably, a more dangerous one) compared to the few minutes of modern running water, but I was grateful nonetheless for the wealth of resources I could access as a physician. 

While digging through my cabinet for the homemade lemon balm soap a young patient gifted me, a sudden flash of lightning and accompanying clap of thunder halted my pursuit. Rain furiously pounded the windows that bookended my cabinet, and my thoughts went to Jamie. He’d been staying at the shop late into the night over the past few weeks, training men to help with the newly-installed printing presses — necessary to meet the growing demand of  _ The Edinburgh Advertiser.  _ To calm my nerves from the thought of him stuck in the horrible weather, I surmised he would likely ride out the storm at the shop until he could make the ten-minute walk back to our apartment, located right above my medical practice. 

Refocusing my attention to the task at hand, I let out a triumphant “ _ aha! _ ” and tossed the soap bar into the tub of steaming water. After emptying each of the four cauldrons a second time, I stepped back and proudly admired the view in front of me. Once I drew the curtains and offered a quick prayer of thanksgiving for the privacy of my office, I began unbuttoning the navy and olive green plaid shirt I’d donned — tucked into a brown skirt, with only a shift underneath — in lieu of my normal layers ( _ desperate times, desperate measures, attire customs can go hang _ , I’d justified to a rather tickled Jamie earlier this week). I’d barely reached the second button when I heard a key switch the lock, my anxious heart relieved at Jamie’s arrival. Before I could prepare a clever greeting, the door flew open and in stumbled my thoroughly drenched husband, face and hands  _ coated _ in smeared ink and soot.

“Jamie!” Leaving my half-buttoned shirt alone, I moved quickly towards him and shut the door, but not before the freezing rainy wind whipped against my face and splattered my clothing within seconds. “Are you alright?  _ Christ,  _ you’re soaked!” 

“Hello S—sassenach, how are ye?” Jamie uttered tiredly, an exhausted grin spreading across his face as he carefully leaned in and planted a hint of kiss on my cheek. “I c—canna believe yer up this late, but I’m glad for it.” 

His charming greeting and puppy-eyed look failed to distract me from the way his body shook underneath his sopping clothing, or how his chattering teeth emphasized the shocking pallor of his dirty face; he’d barely touched my skin, and a chill reflexively traveled down my spine. “I’m happy to see you too. But Jamie, you’re  _ freezing. _ ” His shoulders continued shivering under my grip as I gently navigated him to a stool, plopping him down. “We need to get you dried and cleaned,” I insisted, squatting and speedily stripping him of his black leather boots and damp wool socks. 

“Dinna fash, Sassenach, I’m  _ fine. _ ” He shed his thick navy coat and matching tricorn before throwing the saturated material onto the floor with a resounding  _ splat _ . “We ran into some t—trouble with one of the presses, and we’d put out the fireplace hours before. We got c—caught in the rain earlier when moving supplies into the shop as well. I tried to use an umbrella to get home, but t—tis no match for the  _ dreichy _ weather, and I—” Jamie’s body folded on itself as a blaring sneeze erupted, and two conclusions immediately dominated my focus. 

First, Jamie needed to get out of those clothes as quickly as possible.

Second, I would no longer be the one taking a bath tonight. 

Casting one last longing glance at the steam rising from the tub, I exhaled in resignation and hopped up, holding my hand out to Jamie. 

“Alright, you. I need you to strip off all your clothing and get in there.” I jerked my head in the tub’s direction and helped him off the stool, leaving no doubt in his mind regarding my intentions.

Jamie paused mid-rise, his widening blues erasing even more color from the rest of his face. “No. No, _mo nighean donn_, I’m b—braw. Ye were so excited about your wee bath, I’ll just sit wi’ ye and w—warm up by the fire while ye get in the tub.”

“Jamie, you can hardly form a sentence,” I responded, slowly tugging his rigid form closer to the fire. “Besides, I can always draw one tomorrow evening.” To chip away at his stubbornness, I whirled around and lifted my eyebrows suggestively. “And  _ you  _ can keep  _ me _ company then.”

The guilt weighed heavily as he looked at the tub, then towards me, his flickering eyes reflecting his indecision. “But ye’ve been workin’ so hard, Sassenach, ye deserve to relax.”

“And you haven’t?” I quipped in return, my hands wrapping themselves behind his neck, successfully finding the one warm (and relatively clean) uncovered bit of skin on his body. “If it makes you feel better, you’d be the one doing me a favor by getting in that tub. I’ve had  _ twenty-two  _ patients over the past five days come into my office with symptoms related to a cold. You’ve been working yourself to the bone, crawling into bed with me at late hours in the night and walking around with dark shadows under your eyes. At this point, your immune system is not at its strongest. If we can’t warm you up  _ right now _ , you’ll be a target for illnesses, and neither of us can handle you sick at the moment.”

“Och, the  _ geeeerms _ ,” Jamie teased, his easy demeanor indicating my reasoning had beaten his attempted persistence. “Aye,  _ a nighean _ , ye’re right.” He peeked over my shoulder at the tub, studying its contents, before meeting my gaze. “Think we can fit in there together?” 

I whacked his firm arse playfully, our laughs inspired by both his impossible suggestion and the  _ squelch _ sound my hand made against his now-dripping breeks. “There’s  _ no way _ , Jamie. Let’s get you in there before the water turns cold.”

Jamie undressed while I double-checked the temperature and searched for the lemon balm soap below the bubbly surface. He hung his wet clothes on the racks near the fire, and I brought another of my stools next to the tub; stepping on, my aching feet rejoiced in gratitude and I found myself rubbing my sore neck muscles.

“Are ye sure about this, Claire?” With his nakedness enhancing the hesitation in his expression, I couldn’t help but find his appearance wholly endearing.

"_Yes,_ ” I insisted, fingers grazing his soot-covered stubble. “Go on, I’ll be right here.”

Jamie had barely placed one foot into the water when he released a guttural noise I’d never heard from him, followed by a mixture of exclamatory Gaelic and English phrases as he slowly submerged his lower half into the tub. I cracked a smile at the view of my giant Scot squeezing himself into a comfortable position, a bit cramped by the confines of the tub itself. Once he’d discovered his angles — body from the waist down completely submerged, bent kneecaps peeking above the surface — he shut his eyes and sighed deeply, breath rippling across the water.

“ _ Christ _ , Sassenach, I ken why these almost beat me out when ye made yer decision all those years ago.”

As his one eye popped open to curiously gauge my reaction, I couldn’t fight the chuckle escaping from my throat while I casually tossed the bar of soap to him. “It was a close call, but  _ you _ are far too valuable to me.” 

Casting a beaming grin my way, he ran the soap through the water before starting the tedious process of removing the hardened layers of soot and ink from his hands and face. A comfortable silence fell between us as I watched Jamie scrub the hard lines of his face and the roughened patches of his palms. In the midst of observing the way he squinted when immersed in concentration, I realized how much I’d missed his presence. We’d been ships passing in the night for weeks, his tired greetings and early-morning farewell kisses comprising the sum total of our brief interactions. Reveling in his closeness now, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him, even as I grasped for the washcloth behind me and handed it to him.

“I feel like a new man, Sassenach. My bones are no longer chilled.” He gratefully took the cloth and slowly ran it down his face, dirt effortlessly abandoning his cheeks and jaw. Taking advantage of Jamie’s redirected attention, I ventured to the cabinet to grab a bowl and linen towel. I dipped my hand in the tub once I returned, pleased with the present warmth, and Jamie caught it mid-escape.

“Thank ye,  _ mo chridhe _ .” His eyes shone as he softly kissed the inside of my wrist, his thumb delicately rubbing the same area. “I ken ye spent hours preparin’ this, only to have yer dirty husband reap the blessing of it.” 

Making my way onto my knees beside the tub, I placed my hands behind Jamie’s head and kissed him tenderly. 

“You’ve had a long and difficult few weeks yourself,” I acknowledged, picking up the metal bowl and running it along the thin soapy surface. “And besides,” I smirked, “I’d much rather delay my bath than contend with the miserably helpless wretch you become any time even a sniffle leaves your nose.” 

“Och, ye’re  _ cruel _ , woman.” His feigned shock quickly devolved into a teasing smirk of his own as he grabbed the bowl of water and slowly poured it over his hair. “But I canna fault ye for speakin’ the truth.” 

Tilting my chin up in satisfaction, I scooted my way behind Jamie as he massaged the bar of soap through his hair, his fingers working the suds into a lather. My hands soon joined his, kneading his ginger curls together; within seconds, my view from above sparked a moment of  _ deja vu _ . Filling the bowl to rinse the soap, my muscle memory confirmed the similarities.

“You know,” I started, carefully pouring the water over his head. “This reminds me of washing Brianna’s hair when she was little.” 

“Oh, aye?” I could hear the smile in his tone — the pride of sharing a trait with his daughter.

“Mhm,” I hummed, nodding to myself. “The way her hair curled a bit looser after I bathed her, I could clearly see speckles of various reds. It always reminded me of yours.” 

“I like when ye share stories about her wi’ me,” he admitted huskily. “They bring her to life and help me better know her.” 

A pang of warring emotions struck my heart — missing Brianna, grieving the time lost with Jamie, thankfulness that he had lived to hear these stories. Sliding my hands down his soapy chest, I crossed one forearm over the other as I settled my head on Jamie’s right shoulder. 

“Brianna hated baths when she was younger.” Hearing Jamie’s need for tales of our daughter, I happily complied. “Until she was about five years old, any time I even  _ ran _ the water, she’d fly out of the bathroom and make me chase her around the house. Bathtime to Brianna was seen as a rude interruption into her playtime, and she’d occasionally throw the most  _ dramatic _ tantrums. Even when she grew out of that phase, I still liked to tease her about it sometimes.” 

A laugh rumbled in his chest as he patted his hand against mine. “As ye should, Sassenach.” Turning his head towards me, he suddenly grimaced, hand clutching his left shoulder as water splashed from the tub. 

“What is it?” I asked, senses on high alert while searching for the pain source. “Are you alright?”

“Oh aye,” he confirmed, though uttered through clenched teeth. “My shoulders have been botherin’ me lately, givin’ me trouble every so often.” 

Mildly pressing my thumbs against the spot Jamie clutched, he yelped as I discovered the culprit. “No wonder you’ve been hurting, your muscles are extremely tight.” Carefully tracing with my palm, I followed the tension across his shoulder blades. Rolling my sleeves up, I wrung my hands together. “Can you sit up for me? Let me try something.”

Jamie immediately acquiesced, slowly straightening his back against the edge of the tub. Once I deemed my fingers adequately loosened, I began weaving my way through his shoulder muscles, testing different pressures and closely listening to any signs of pain from Jamie. 

“Does this help?” I continued to knead his skin, uncertain whether the low moans I registered came from pain or pleasure. 

“God,  _ yes _ ,” he sighed, his body sagging against my touch. “Sassenach, yer hands are magic.” 

His tightly-wound muscles relaxed over time, and I grew especially amused at Jamie’s delighted moans — the gradual increase in volume correlating with the pressure I exerted. 

“If we still lived at the House of Joy, you’d fit right in with those sounds you’re making,” I teased.

“Och, but tis only  _ yer _ touch that has me under its power, Sassenach.” His voice slurred from both unmitigated physical relief and seeping exhaustion, and I enjoyed the reassurance Jamie had provided in his response.

Satisfied with my results, I pushed off his shoulder blades and shook out my stiff hands. Scooting back to Jamie’s left side, I examined his extremities for any potential hypothermia (a process which involved Jamie playfully splashing me with each foot pop) and was pleased to see a healthy peach color return to his skin. As I wiped the bath water from my face, unable to control my laughter, I quickly became lost in Jamie’s narrowed stare and soft half-smile.

“I ken it’s daft of me, since ye’ve been here three months now.” He reached out for my hand and clasped it tenderly, his gaze not leaving mine,. “But sometimes, I still canna believe ye’re truly  _ here _ wi’ me.” 

I inched towards him, placing my other hand on top of Jamie’s and resting my arms against the tub’s rim. “I know what you mean. For eighteen years, I never thought I’d see you again. And now look at us,” I concluded with no shortage of pride in our accomplishments as our lips briefly met, “Working as a healer and printer in the modern beginnings of Edinburgh.”

Jamie hummed contentedly into our kiss, his awed expression greeting me once we separated. “Tis incredible what ye do, Sassenach. Ye spend long days healin’ the sick and helpin’ people. And ye love and care for me too.” His free hand emerging from the water, he made a futile effort of drying it against the tub before grazing his fingers against my jaw. “Ye deserve to have someone take care of ye, and I hope you see me as that person.”

“Of course you are, Jamie.” I kissed him in assurance, praying he’d know the truth behind my words. “You care so much about the people in your life—  _ especially _ me.”

Nodding once, Jamie furrowed his brow and twitched the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry I’ve been comin’ home so late. With the business growin’, things have been a wee bit hectic. I’ve missed ye, Sassenach, and I hate leaving ye alone.” 

“I’ve missed you too, but you’ve never made me feel alone. I get to work as a physician, and  _ you _ were the one who encouraged me to try and become a healer in this time.” I paused, squeezing our hands for emphasis. “We’ve always been a team, no matter what life throws our way. You care for me by letting me spend my days doing something I love. And I’m  _ so proud _ of you for what you’ve done with the print shop.” 

A grateful smile spread across his face, his body leaning closer to mine. “It gives me so much joy to see ye doin’ what ye’re meant to do. Ye have a gift,  _ mo nighean donn _ , and ye’re usin’ it to help people.”

I kissed him once more before launching to my feet. “Let’s get you out of there before you turn into a prune,” I joked, gripping his hands and helping him out of the tub. Locating the towel I’d grabbed earlier, I rubbed his skin dry before handing it off to Jamie, who wrapped the damp towel around his waist. 

I urged him onto a stool, flashbacks to his shivering body motivating me to check his fingers and toes one more time. Once Jamie fully flexed all digits for me, I grew confident we’d done our part to ward off any illness. 

“Will I bide, Doctor Fraser?” he asked sincerely, my heart beaming at the rare title he’d used for me.

“Indeed, you will.” I cradled his face, studying the lines of various depths that congregated around his eyes and mouth. Based on his own shrinking pupils, I knew he was doing the same to mine. “Like what you see?”

“Ye’re so beautiful, Sassenach.” He said it as seriously as he would a vow, his eyes shimmering with pure adoration. 

“Oh, I’m sure my sweaty face and half-buttoned clothing  _ really  _ bring out the grey in my frizzy curls,” I laughed halfheartedly, my throat quickly tightening from the reverence behind Jamie’s words. 

Ignoring my self-criticism, Jamie pulled me closer and ran his fingers through my locks. “I love the silver in yer hair,  _ mo calmean geal _ . My white dove,” he clarified with a half-smile. “But aye, tis not just yer physical beauty I was speaking of. Ye have a light in yer eyes when ye’re helpin’ people, tis no wonder ye became a doctor. And while there are many reasons I ken ye love me, to see ye have that same light when ye’re wi’ me — well, it sure is somethin’.”

“I see your heart in everything you do, Jamie.” He’d always been the masterful communicator out of the two of us, but he inspired me to stretch beyond my own comforts. “I remember watching you from afar after we met. It was your touch that made me feel safe those first days.” My eyes followed the trail my hands were forging along the colorful veins of his arm muscles, ending at the hardened calluses that years of labor and hardship had imprinted on him. “These hands have fought for me, comforted me, and loved me in so many ways. ” Taking one of them between my own, I lightly caressed his palm. “You’re also a man of your word, and people look to you for your leadership. You serve the people in your life so well, including me every day.” 

Quirking the right corner of his lip upwards, his eyes glanced down to our entwined hands. “Tis nice to hear that from ye, Sassenach, because I ken ye mean what ye say.”

“Well, it’s also because I’m right,” I cheekily replied, affection blooming in my chest at Jamie’s left corner of his mouth rising up.

“I willna challenge ye on that,” he laughed through his response. 

“Give yourself some grace, too, Jamie. It’s been a difficult time for both of our careers recently, and it’s normal to feel overwhelmed.”

I should have seen it coming. Eyes scanning upwards, Jamie’s mouth tightened as he lifted his brows, using every ounce of self control to avoid bursting into laughter.

“Alright,  _ alright _ ,” I huffed in an exaggerated manner while rolling my eyes, fighting to maintain my solemn composure. “I see your point. We  _ both _ need to do better.” 

His amused eyes twinkled in the firelight. “Aye, ye’re no’ wrong there. We’ll help each other,  _ a nighean _ . We’re a team, like ye said.”

“Always.”

He didn’t move, as I reached out once more and drew my hand slowly down his cheek and neck, over the gleaming slope of his shoulder and down. He didn’t move, but he closed his eyes. 

“I love you, Jamie,” I whispered, not wanting to disturb his peaceful moment. 

Smiling gently, Jamie slowly opened his teary eyes. “And I,  _ you _ , Sassenach.” 

Our bodies instantly connected, pouring the overt need we couldn’t verbalize into one another. Jamie rose and pressed closer to me, my hands sharing in my unmistakable admiration of his body. 

“I think I’m all warmed up now,” he muttered in between kisses.

My leg inching between his thighs, I gasped at the hardness I felt through multiple layers. “Well, part of you is  _ definitely  _ warmed up,” I commented into his mouth. 

Breaking our kiss, Jamie squeezed my hand and led me to the stairwell to our apartment. 

“Jamie, wait!” I broke through my aroused haze, glancing at the mess we’d left behind.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach, I’ll take care of it later.” Meeting my eyes, he deployed one of his failed owl-like winks.  “Time for me to serve ye now.”

Sprinting up the stairwell, a combustible desire burned through the pure exhaustion settled in my bones, bursting into flames as we ran into our bedroom and he kissed me deeply. Captivated by his already-naked body, I hastily attempted to join him, only to be stopped by Jamie’s grip.

“Shhhh, Sassenach, let me.”

His steady and purposeful actions countered my breathless confusion; fingers deftly unbuttoning my plaid, his own burning stare made me itch with need to touch him. He lifted his finger and rotated it once; I obediently spun halfway to let him untie my skirt. As I stepped out of the fabric, Jamie’s arms wrapped around my waist, his lips claiming the territory at the back of my neck. 

Suddenly, the words I had formulated into a desperate plea to continue stripping me down surrendered to my body’s biological needs; bobbing my head against Jamie’s bare chest, I sank into a gaping and endless yawn. 

Feeling a soft chuckle against my ear, I sighed as Jamie tightened his hold. “My own bloody self is betraying me,” I mourned, tilting my head to kiss his cheek. “I need you, Jamie, but will you—?”

“Aye. I’ve got ye.” 

After untying my shift and freeing my trapped arms, he kissed me delicately, lifting my worn body and carrying me to our bed. Our mouths never parted as he positioned himself over me, his careful movements mirroring the way he treasured my desire for him. We made love quietly yet thoroughly; Jamie’s vigor spurred him on to completion first, but he wasted no time in finding the right nerves to press me onwards. I joined him with a soft moan, and our bodies instinctively relaxed into one another. As our heartbeats slowly returned from euphoria, my fingertips lovingly traced the faded scars that mapped his back. 

Some indeterminable amount of time later, I awoke to Jamie rolling himself off the bed and pulling on a dry pair of breeks he’d grabbed from the wardrobe. 

“Where are you going?” I questioned groggily, unsure whether or not I was dreaming. 

“Downstairs, to go empty the tub and put out the fires,” he whispered, padding lightly towards me and seeking my lips before leaving. “And to make sure yer wee kingdom looks good as new for tomorrow’s patients.”

Gripping his freshly cleaned curls, I kissed him goodnight, knowing sleep would take me captive long before he returned. 

“Thank you, Jamie.” 

He kissed me once more on the forehead, casting a smile over his shoulder on his way out of the room. Rolling back over to my pillow, I hummed in delight as a hint of lemon drifted into my nose, my last conscious thought belonging to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m at lcbeauchampoftarth on Tumblr or at lcbeauchampoft1 on Twitter, I’d love to hear y’all’s thoughts! Thank you for reading. ❤️


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